Bright Lights and Cityscapes
by Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs
Summary: A Sloan/Don tag to the finale. A way to fix the way the season left off. Inspired by the Sara Bareilles song. One-shot.


A/N: I still find it amusing that a couple that barely interacted in the first few episodes was essentially made canon in the season finale. I'm in love with everything about them, and all of their scenes in 'Great Fool' were perfection. This is post-finale, about a week later.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters original to The Newsroom.

"_Shield your eyes from the truth at hand, tell me why it'll be good again; all those demons are closing in and I don't want you to burn- nevermind what I said before," –'Bright Lights and Cityscapes', Sara Bareilles_

* * *

"_Well that's what a good guy would do."_

Those eight words hadn't stopped reverberating around his head for the past week.

He sat in his apartment, staring at the empty space that was meant for Maggie's boxes. She hadn't even started to pack yet; she kept pushing it off, finding an excuse like work or Lisa or her parents.

He'd found that accepting those excuses were all too easy for him.

"_Starting now."_

He hadn't thought two words would make his breathing hitch or his heart speed up the way those two did, but here he sat, hands over his mouth, trying desperately to think of a way to talk to Sloan.

Maggie was off doing something with her mom, and he'd already had three beers; he couldn't give a flying fuck about not getting shitfaced on a work night. His phone sat on the coffee table, practically taunting him; Sloan's number was in there- Sloan's voice was just a few button clicks away.

But he'd seen the look in her eyes when she'd walked away from him; he'd seen the resolution, and more than that, he'd seen the pain.

And he couldn't bring himself to bring her more pain; he couldn't allow himself to be the reason she was hurting. It killed him enough to know that he'd hurt her with a missed opportunity; he swallowed against the emotion that coated his throat.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed, smacking his hand against the wooden table, his phone sliding off and crashing to the ground; he didn't care. He finished the beer he'd opened (his fourth and counting) and grabbed another, he shoved a stack of papers off the breakfast bar and resisted the urge to scream; they were the papers Maggie needed to sign once she moved in.

He drank his way through another two beers, and his vision was fuzzy as he stumbled back to the couch, tripping over his phone on the ground. He fell onto the sofa, staring at the black square that was his cell phone.

He was tempted to leave even just a voice message for her, but they'd all seen where that had gotten Will and Mackenzie; Will landed himself in the hospital and Mackenzie still sent Will looks when she thought he wasn't looking (even though everyone knew he was). He closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch, the room beginning to spin around him.

When he woke up the next morning, his head hurt and his mouth was dry; groaning, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes, wincing at the sunlight streaming in. Scooping his watch up he checked the time; he had an hour and a half before he had to be at work.

Two hours later he was showered and at work, huddled in his office with a large cup of coffee and some extra-strength Tylenol. No one had bothered him yet, and nothing Earth-shattered at happened. He was praying for an easy night; he wanted to go home and sleep this hangover off.

He was leaving to grab a sandwich for lunch when Maggie literally ran into him; her eyes were wide and she stumbled over her words, and he could tell she was nervous about something.

"What is it, Maggie?" he asked, suddenly exhausted by this entire relationship. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip, wringing her hands in front of her as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Maggie-"

"I'm giving you your key back," she finally blurted out, her words a fast jumble past her lips. Her eyes widened further at her words, like she hadn't fully expected to say them, anxiety washing over her face.

"Um-"

"I talked it over with my mom and I'm just- I'm not ready, Don. I thought I was, but I've tried to pack and I just- I can't do it, Don, I'm sorry," she said, cutting him off and rushing to explain, some of the words tripping over themselves on the way out of her mouth.

To his astonishment, Don wasn't upset. He felt…almost liberated, in a way.

"And I kissed Jim."

That caught his attention.

"What?" he asked, finding his voice after a moment and swallowing, crossing his arms carefully over his chest and subtly shifting his weight to his back foot. Maggie's agitation increased, she tightened her grip on her fingers and chewed on her lip.

"The- the night you asked me to move in with you, Jim and I…kissed," Maggie said, awkwardness filling her tone and her face and her body language. "But he was with Lisa and I was with you and…"

Don accepted the words with a short nod, flattening his into a thin line. He didn't know what to say; for some reason all he could see was Sloan, in his office, telling him he was a good guy. And then the look on her face when she told him the reason she was still single was because he hadn't asked her out.

"You know what?" he asked, an almost bitter undercurrent to his voice as he dropped his arms to his side, shoving them into the pockets of his jeans. "It's totally fine, Maggie. It's totally and completely fine."

"Don, I-"

"No, no, there's no need to explain," Don said, interrupting her and shaking his head, one hand coming out of his pocket and waving in the air with his words. "It was always going to happen- ever since he walked into the newsroom a year ago."

He ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble there from not shaving before he'd left his apartment. He left out a sigh of frustration, lowering his gaze from the ceiling and looking at Maggie, who seemed to have shrunk in front of him.

"Is that what you want?" he asked quietly, and that answer would make or break this. One word; both held consequences. She opened her mouth, large eyes shimmering with the makings of tears, silent for a moment before nodding, the single syllable leaving her lips.

"Yes," she whispered, sniffling slightly and straightening up, meeting his eyes. He looked at her for a moment, searching her face, and then he nodded, relaxing his shoulders. He took a step forward, pressing his lips to her forehead for a moment.

"Okay," he said quietly, hugging her and allowing her to gather her emotions against his chest. "Okay."

He didn't get lunch; he sat in his office, in the dark, for an hour, and let himself think.

* * *

The show had been good; no major screw-ups, no trip-ups on Elliot or Sloan's part, and everything had been smooth.

He was leaving the booth when he saw Sloan coming from the opposite way; feeling a sudden burst of confidence he stopped in front of her, grabbing her arm and tugging her into an empty control room.

"_What_ are you doing, I specifically remember saying we wouldn't be speaking-"

"Just shut up, for like, thirty seconds, please," Don said, cutting her off. Sloan's face froze for a second and he felt bad for snapping, but he had to do this before he realized how stupid this whole thing was. Sloan leaned back against a desk, clutching her notepad to her chest and pushing her glasses up her nose.

She'd clipped half of her hair back but some of the dark, glossy strands were falling into her face and he wanted nothing more than to push them back and tuck them behind her ear; the pit of his stomach ached and he didn't know what to say.

"I feel like I should explain myself," he said, and her shoulders stiffened. "I wasn't expecting what you said in my office, we both know that."

He watched the column of her throat move as she swallowed, and his throat went dry. He struggled to re-align his thoughts, clearing his throat.

"I didn't ask you out because I thought you'd never go for me," he said, watching as her eyes widened, the light from above reflecting off the lens of her glasses. "Caught you off-guard, didn't I?"

"But…I- really?" she asked in reply, tilting her head and looking at him, her grip on the notepad loosening as her arms fell to her sides, the pad resting on the desk.

"Have you looked at yourself, Sloan? You're beautiful, and incredibly intelligent, and confident, and _radiant_- I never thought you'd want a guy like me," Don said, watching as her eyes widened further. Her pupils dilated when he took a step closer to her, but she didn't move away. She tilted her body slightly so that their chests were aligned, her lips parting slightly. "What would have happened if I'd taken the risk?"

Her breathing increased a beat, and he moved a little closer, he could see the speckles of color in her eyes; the hues of gold mixed with the deep, rich browns. There was a smudge on the corner of her glasses from her fingertip, and when she exhaled her breath smelled like mint gum. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he drew his hand up, tucking the loose strands of hair back behind her ear.

Her cheek was warm against his palm when he laid it there gently, his thumb brushing her cheekbone and his eyes locked with hers. She exhaled shakily, blinking slowly, reaching one hand out for his free one.

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, and in her eyes he could see the fragile, rejected girl she hid every day. "I don't know if I know how."

He tilted her chin up lightly, making sure her eyes met his, and he could see the fear there, in those warm, dark depths.

"Together," he said, bringing her hand up and letting it rest on his chest, her palm resting over his heart and her fingers spreading out, digging into the soft flannel slightly.

"What about Maggie?" she asked, grip on his shirt tightening slightly even as she tried to pull away. "You two-"

"Are done," he said quietly, waiting for her response. She froze for a moment, processing, and then relaxed, moving back to their previous position. She looked up, moving her free hand from her side to touch two fingertips to the dark circles under his eyes, the feather-light touch making his heart clench.

"I can't just be your rebound girl," she murmured, her hand moving from his cheek to rest against his neck, clearing her throat slightly and swallowing.

"You could never be a rebound, Sloan Sabbith," Don said firmly, wanting desperately for her to believe it. She looked at him for a few long moments before letting her eyes fall to where her hand rested over his heart.

She nodded, once, and the motion was like the Earth finally settled on its axis. Gently he tugged her forward into a hug, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into the place where his shoulder met his neck. He breathed out against her hair, pressing his lips to the crown of her head and allowed himself to register the sheer, utter relief that was radiating from the center of his chest.

They stood there for what felt like hours, but in actuality was only a handful of minutes; they stepped back simultaneously, exhaling in unison.

"Let me take you to dinner," he said, watching as genuine pleasure lit up her eyes and a small smile slid onto her lips.

"I'd like that," she said, nodding, gathering her notepad back up. "There's an Italian place by my apartment; I can get us a table for tomorrow."

"I thought I was taking you to dinner," he said, teasing her mildly. She bit her lip to stop the grin, cheeks flushing a gorgeous shade of pink.

"You can pay," she replied, nudging him lightly with her hip as they walked to the door, and the look in her eyes was too much.

He tugged her closer and pressed his mouth to hers; there were a few seconds of frozen confusion and then her lips relaxed against his, the kiss soft and deep and saying more than words could in that moment. Her free hand cupped his jaw, tangling into his hair as one of his hands slid to her waist and the other cupped the back of her head, not wanting the kiss to end.

She tasted like spearmint and a shade of Gatorade, and her lips were supple and moist against his from her chapstick. He fought to control himself; he wouldn't fuck this up before it had barely begun. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, catching his breath.

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"Don't apologize for kissing me," Sloan said, shaking her head and raising her eyes to meet his, a soft, glowing heat filling those dark irises. "Of all the things to apologize for, kissing me is not one of them."

She initiated the kiss this time; short and chaste but just as good, even if it was over too soon.

"Dinner, tomorrow," she said, pulling away and looking at him, tucking some hair behind her ear self-consciously. "Meet me at my apartment?"

"I'll be there," he said, nodding, already missing the feel of her against him. "Have a good night, Sloan."

She blushed as she left the room, looking back over her shoulder and wrinkling her nose slightly, cheeks flushed and making her look even more beautiful. She rounded a corner and he exhaled, closing his eyes and tilting his head backward, his hand coming up to cover where her palm had been sitting only moments ago.

And for what felt like the first time in a long time, Don Keefer really, truly smiled.


End file.
